


it's going to be wonderful

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: After five years in space with the same few people, Monty's overwhelmed to be on the ground again. Even more overwhelmed by Nathan Miller.Includes: finale speculation, mentions of character deaths, potential spoilers





	it's going to be wonderful

Being on the ground is not as overwhelmingly excellent as Monty thought it would be. It’s amazing, that’s for sure, seeing as they’ve been in space for five fucking years. But it’s not the ground he missed.

It was other people.

Clarke is the first to greet them after they land, and the way that Bellamy pulls to her like they’re magnets who’ve spent much too long apart is not surprising. The smiles that they share, the way they cling to each other, Monty knew that would happen. Clarke greets all of them with tears in her eyes and, though it’s been years, it doesn’t feel like they’ve been gone that long.

When the bunker is opened and everyone who survived inside takes their first steps outside, that’s when Monty is overwhelmed. There are so many _others_. People who aren’t Raven or Murphy, people who _don’t_ know Monty’s entire schedule, people who _haven’t_ seen Monty every single day for the past five years.

It’s insane.

There are children and there are adults and there are Grounders and there are Skaikru and there are so many of them that Monty thinks he might have to relearn how to socialize with people who weren’t some of the few in space with him.

(A small, aching part of him seeks out Jasper’s face where he knows he won’t find it.)

Abby’s there and Kane is there and Jaha’s there and everyone’s blinking into the sun.

“Holy shit,” Monty hears, and then watches as Nathan Miller breaks through the crowd and starts right for Bellamy. The smile that finds Bellamy’s face is brighter than any he ever wore in the stars and he races towards Miller, too.

The hug they share is different than the one Bellamy shared with Clarke. This one has more laughter, more disbelief and lingering familiarity of old friends. Monty remembers when Miller was Bellamy’s Lieutenant. He wonders how Miller fared down in the bunker.

Miller greets them all as well, ending up at Monty last.

He stares at Monty’s face a moment before he laughs. “What?” Monty asks.

Miller blinks a few times before ducking his head with a smile. “I’m just realizing how much I missed you,” Miller answers.

Monty’s unprepared for the way Miller wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly in greeting, the two of them fitting together as though they were sea and earth meeting one another for the first time in a long time.

* * *

In true Arkadian fashion, the first evening in open air is spent celebrating.

 _They survived_. Those in space, those in the bunker, they made it out. Apparently they’ve been brewing up moonshine for weeks to celebrate, though after a few sips Monty knows that his is better.

“It’s not like you could’ve been there,” Raven teases as he wrinkles his nose. She slings his arm over his shoulder. “Enjoy it, Monty,” she tells him.

“I’m trying,” he murmurs back.

There are just so many people.

Monty lingers on the outskirts of the celebration for most of the night. He’s unprepared for all of the loud voices, all of the unfamiliar faces. People are often coming up to him, greeting him, asking him this or that about his time back in space. But he doesn’t really want to talk to any of them.

The six he was in space with are constantly in his periphery. Harper’s talking to Kane and Emori and Clarke are sitting side by side and even Echo is there, Monty knowing exactly where it is each of them stand. He takes another drink from his cup and glances around, trying to find something to do, someone to talk to, when Murphy meets his eyes.

No words are spoken, just eyebrows shifted slightly, and Monty knows exactly what he’s thinking. _Too many fucking people_.

He turns, then, catching Bellamy’s eyes, and again the message is conveyed. A laugh lights on Bellamy’s face, and soon Raven’s grinning too. Even Harper looks up, understanding that they’re conversing without conversing, and smirks. Monty spins, about to start off toward Raven again, when his eyes snag on Miller who just watched the entire interaction between the space crew. His face is alarmingly neutral, but there’s something in his eyes that makes Monty pause.

Miller ducks his head and turns away from the crowd of them, and Monty feels like the only person to notice. He watches as Miller makes his way to a nearby fire pit and stations himself, alone, on one of the logs nearby. There, he sits, no one by his side.

At once, Monty marches to fill the open seat.

Unfortunately, however, Bellamy beats Monty there, clearly also having noticed Miller walking away from them all. Monty lingers back as Bellamy settles in, knowing he should turn away (or _join them_ ), but then Bellamy clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Miller turns to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “For what?” They’re both quiet a moment, but then Miller sighs. “It’s okay,” he says, shaking his head a bit. Monty wonders if he’s missing out some key part of this conversation before Miller says, “You had to save Raven. It had to be done.”

“We left you,” Bellamy murmurs.

“Octavia and Clarke too,” Miller reminds him gently. “It’s fine. It had to be done. Isn’t that what you always say?”

Still, Bellamy sits tall, tense. “If it was fine,” Bellamy carries on, “then you wouldn’t be over here by yourself.”

Miller shrugs. “You all speak without speaking.” Again, he shakes his head, and Monty feels his chest twist. “It’s just not something I’ll ever be able to understand. One look and you know what someone else is thinking.” Monty never considered that, that someone in the bunker would feel… _left out_. Space wasn’t easy, not by any means. In fact it was really fucking hard. So to hear this side of it, Monty’s left a little frozen. “It was really just me and Octavia inside,” Miller says, his voice dropping. “And it’s not like we’re close. I just kind of lost everyone I had overnight. Even…” he trails off, a laugh in his voice. “Even fucking Murphy.”

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy says again.

“I just missed you all,” Miller says. “Don’t be sorry.”

“No--because it’s like we’re still leaving you out,” Bellamy murmurs. “And that was never--it’s not intentional. I just wish--”

“Bellamy,” Miller cuts him off. “Life goes on. It’s okay. I mean--you all were stuck in space for five years. That sucks ass.” That pulls a laugh out of Bellamy, but the two of them both look sad. Monty wonders if this is what it would be like if he had to reunite with Jasper, if Jasper had been left behind while Monty shot back into the stars. Both of them upset with how things played out, knowing neither option was a good one. “I guess I just feel like… the forgotten delinquent, or something.”

“You’ll always be one of us,” Bellamy says.

“Yeah,” Miller murmurs. But by the way he says it, Monty knows Miller doesn’t really believe him.

He leaves them alone for a bit, actually this time, and gets himself another drink. By the time he’s finished it, Miller’s alone again, and Monty hurries to fill the seat beside him before someone else can. Monty wants to say something, immediately, about how Miller’s not a _forgotten delinquent_ , that he belongs with them, that he’ll always fit in, but his throat closes before he can even manage. Besides, that would basically be telling Miller that he was eavesdropping.

Monty settles with a very neutral, “Hey.”

The smile on Miller’s face is warm. “Hey,” he responds. “How’s your readjustment back into society going?”

“Awful,” Monty admits, and Miller laughs. “Jesus, Miller. It’s just so many people. That’s my only thought. On repeat. That there are so many of them.” Again, Miller laughs, shaking his head fondly. He prefers this--the smiling Miller--compared to the soft, aching one he saw just a bit ago with Bellamy. “But I mean, if I’m talking to you, at least it looks like I’m attempting to reintegrate, right?”

“What I’m hearing is you want to sit with me for the rest of the night,” Miller says.

Monty beams. “Exactly.”

They talk for a bit about nonsensical things. The way the air tastes, for example, or the feel of the earlier sunshine on their skin. But it’s not enough to maintain a conversation, and soon enough Monty asks, “What was it like in the bunker?”

Miller seems grateful for the ability to talk about it. He answers with enthusiasm, describing a typical day, describing what his quarters were like, what his responsibilities were, before the enthusiasm slowly fades away. He waits a beat before answering, “It was lonely.”

“Lonely?” Monty echoes. “But there were so many people,” Monty says.

Miller goes quiet for a moment. “No one I really cared about, though.” Another stretch of silence. “What about space?” he asks.

“It was okay for a while,” Monty answers, staring into the fire, surprised at how much he missed watching flames dance as if it was the only thing they had been created for. “I mean we all kind of had someone. But…” Monty takes a deep breath. “You spend five years with the same six people and you start to go a little crazy.”

Miller nods his head. “It wasn’t the same in the bunker. I mean, we always had more people.”

“You just said it was lonely,” Monty points out.

“It was. But if Kane was getting under my skin I could go a few weeks without speaking to him. You know?”

Monty’s drink is empty but he wishes that he had more moonshine, now matter how mediocre it is. “You had Jackson,” Monty remembers.

Miller shrugs. “For a bit. Eric, he…” Miller trails off before lifting his cup to take a drink, not having downed his as fast as Monty had. “He was really it, though. I mean my dad gave up his spot for me so I lost my family. And I lost all of you because I wasn’t on that rescue mission to Raven. So it was just Eric. And one person isn’t enough for a family. Not for me.” Miller shrugs again. “It didn’t last. We’re on good terms, but it didn’t last. So. Yeah. Lonely.” Miller seems to hesitate. “You and Harper?”

“Same thing,” Monty tells him. “In the sense that we didn’t last, I mean.” Monty sighs. “I wanted her to be… everything. To fill that hole that Jasper left. But it was--Jesus, it was suffocating.”

“Good terms, though?” Miller asks.

“Good terms,” Monty says with a nod.

They’re both quiet a moment, back to watching the flames. “I’m sorry about Jasper,” Miller murmurs. “I never got to say anything because I didn’t know, and then everything had happened, and--”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Monty cuts him off. He still misses Jasper. Every day. All the time. But it’s okay. “Me too. About David. He was really--he was great.”

“Yeah,” Miller says softly. “Thank you.” Miller shakes his head. “He said he was giving me his spot so I could rebuild, so the world could be wonderful,” Miller murmurs. “So that’s what I’ve got to do. That’s my next.”

Monty tips his head toward the man beside him. “Your next?” he asks.

Miller’s beautiful, Monty realizes. He knew that before, a long time ago, but it’s something else to be seated next to him. In the twilight his long eyelashes curl upwards, the firelight illuminates the curve of his nose, his cheeks.

“Everyone keeps asking ‘What do we do next?’” Miller says. “That’s my next. Rebuilding. For dad.”

Monty nods slowly. “For Jasper,” he whispers.

Miller turns toward him and their eyes meet, just briefly, before they share a smile.

* * *

The preparations to restart society begin first thing in the morning.

Monty’s barely awake when he joins Harper’s side, and she looks overwhelmed at the amount of people who are giving out orders to start. Monty sort of just assumed that grounders would go off and do their own thing and those from Arkadia would start up Arkadia once again. But apparently five years locked in a bunker has allowed them to form this weird, pseudo-society.

They get to work.

Within two weeks of being back on the ground, there are already small clusters of cabins, small societies being rebuilt. A few groups do break away, but not because of any major disagreements. Just because they want to retain some tradition from the time before.

“Hey,” he hears Bellamy shout at one point, charging across camp to where Octavia is pointing in the distance. There’s anger on his face. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Assigning cabins,” she answers.

(Monty isn’t a fan of this version of Octavia. He’s not sure any other version ever existed, but he misses the girl who was there when they first landed, surprised by butterflies.)

“Miller isn’t in that section,” Bellamy argues. “He’s with us.”

Octavia looks her brother up and down. “He wasn’t with your crew, he was with mine.”

“He’ll always be one of us,” Bellamy snaps. Miller’s not around for this conversation, but Monty’s glad it happens. Octavia holds her hands up, seemingly uncaring about this, and marches away to do more work. Monty strides up to Bellamy’s side, surprised he’s still upset. “I thought it’d be different to have her back,” he says. “But I really don’t know her, Monty.”

“She’s got her weird, commander-complex going on.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I’m always going to love her,” he says. “But right now, I’m not sure I like her.”

“Join the club.” Bellamy laughs. “It was nice what you did for Miller.”

“Clarke’ll be with us too,” Bellamy says. “We’ve all been split up for way too long.”

“Maybe we should just section off entirely,” Raven says, joining the conversation. “Take who we care about and start a commune in the woods.”

“Yeah,” Emori chimes in. “Let’s exclude ourselves further from society! Sounds awesome.”

Monty laughs, and Emori shakes her head fondly. In the distance, Miller and Clarke stand side by side, watching in silence.

* * *

“Whoa!” Monty dives forward, pushing Miller out of the way as fast as he can. The two of them collide on the ground with a thud as the board falls into the spot where Miller had just been standing. Monty scoffs. “Jeez, Miller,” he says, brushing off his hands and looking down to where his knees are torn apart from gravel. “Be more careful!”

He turns to look at the man beside him, surprised to find him laughing.

It’s been a month now that they’ve all reunited and Monty’s been making it part of his personal mission to include Miller more. Bellamy and Harper do, too, while Bellamy and Raven work on bringing Clarke back into the mix of things. It’s not the same, not yet, and Monty’s not sure it ever will be. But at least they’re trying.

Miller rests his head on the ground and stares up at the sky, the clouds, _laughing_. “It’s just,” Miller finally manages. “Can you imagine? If that had been it?”

Despite not really understanding, a smile finds Monty’s face. “What do you mean?”

“If that stupid fucking board had fallen and hit me on the head and then I was gone?” Miller asks. He shakes his head, full on grinning. “To have survived everything only to die while building a goddamn cabin.”

Monty’s grinning now, too. “I don’t think you would have _died_ ,” Monty tells him. “Just like, possible major brain damage.”

Miller’s still grinning, and Monty’s not sure it’s a sight he’s going to get used to. It’s sharp, all teeth, and cuts straight to Monty’s core.

“I would’ve been able to fix you,” Clarke says, striding up to them. She’s working at a nearby cabin, and must’ve seen the fall. She settles down on the ground, craning her neck to look at the sky. “I used to do this,” she said. “When I was out there by myself.”

“Better with other people around?” Miller asks.

“Infinitely.”

“Are we cloud watching, now?” Raven asks, making her way over to the three of them.

“I almost _died_ , Raven,” Miller says. “We’re taking a break.”

“You did not almost _die_ ,” Monty returns.

Soon, Bellamy joins them too, and then Murphy and Emori and Harper are there as well. Miller turns, a smile still stretched across his face, and Monty can’t handle the way it makes him feel.

* * *

Being in space with only a few other people made Monty _really good_ at talking about his feelings. They had to. If they weren’t all talking about their feelings all the time, things would simmer, and someone would end up breaking something essential. Or their hand. They needed to express their concerns, their frustrations, their thoughts. They needed to laugh, to shout, to scream.

So being back in a society where people just sort of shove all of that aside is frustrating, to say the least.

Clarke, for example, would shut Bellamy out for days at a time without any explanation, and Monty _knew_ it was driving him insane. He didn’t know how to really feel about it, however, until Miller did it to him.

After his shift in the lab where he and Raven were working with a few other people from the bunker on the most efficient way to institute society-wide solar power, he stops by Miller’s as he often does to find Miller on the porch with a book in his hands.

“I read everything we had in the bunker,” Miller had told him one afternoon, “so every time we find a new book, now, it gives me something to do.”

Monty still remembers the look of wonder in Miller’s eyes when they came across a small bunker that was stuffed with books.

Today he barely glances up when Monty approaches, doesn’t greet him, and keeps his nose in his book. “Hey,” Monty finally calls, and Miller grunts in response. Monty leans against the railing of the porch, looking up at Miller in his chair, waiting. “You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” Miller answers.

“See, that answer leads me to believe that you’re _not_ fine.” Miller flips the page with more force than is needed to flip a page. “What’s wrong?” Monty asks, and again, Miller doesn’t answer. It reminds him of the early days in space, when they would get claustrophobic with one another and lock themselves in their rooms alone. “Want me to leave you alone?” Monty asks carefully.

He takes the lack of response as a yes. It just doesn’t sit well with him.

It isn’t until a few days later, after a conversation with Clarke, does Monty realize what happened.

Monty heads straight for Miller’s, knocking on the door and refusing to leave until he answers. “What do you want?” Miller murmurs upon opening the door.

Monty wedges himself inside before Miller can shut him out. “I’ve learned that I have to talk about things,” Monty says. “It’s what we did in space. We talked things out. Because if not we’d go insane.” Miller pulls the door shut and turns, with a frown, to Monty in the front room of his cabin. “So I’ve been asking people what could’ve happened, because obviously _you_ don’t want to talk about it. But Clarke clued me in.”

Miller’s eyes drop to the ground. “It’s fine, Monty,” he grits out, but mostly he just sounds sad. “Everyone’s finding their places again. Mine just isn’t with you all.”

“That’s bullshit,” Monty snaps.

“I know it’s probably not intentional,” Miller carries on, “but you all _actively_ exclude me from things.” This is when his face breaks, the sadness leaching onto his features. “And that’s--it’s fine, okay? I just don’t fit in with you all anymore.”

“That’s not _true_ ,” Monty insists. Miller holds his gaze for a long time, not speaking, before Monty finally has to look away. “We don’t do it on purpose.”

“I know,” Miller murmurs. “But it’s like--it’s like when we got back from Mount Weather. Octavia and Monroe and all of them didn’t understand what we’d been through because they weren’t there. And I wasn’t there with you all in space. So I’m not--I don’t understand your jokes and your references and it’s _fine_.”

Monty shakes his head because it’s _not_ fine. He knew Miller back on the Ark, before _any_ of this happened. It has to count for something, right?

“When it stormed last week,” Miller carries on, his voice still thick, “and Murphy and Raven went around collecting all of you so you could sit it out together, I was just--I was just _here_. By myself. Always fucking…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Because I’m not one of you, anymore.”

“You could’ve come,” Monty rasps. “You’re always allowed to--”

“No,” Miller cuts him off. “No, it’s not the same and you know it.”

Monty remembers the night of the storm because it had been _wonderful_. It was like one of those early nights in space when they all grabbed bedding and slept on the floor together to be near one another, to feel safer. They were all laughing and sharing snacks and talking about how weird it was to be back in with everyone, back in society, back with other people. Miller’s _right_. It’s not the same. He wouldn’t have fit into that conversation. Just like Clarke wouldn’t have, which is why she also wasn’t there.

Monty steps forward slowly. “You’re always going to be one of us,” he says softly, and Miller shakes his head.

“That just isn’t true anymore.”

“Well I want it to be,” Monty huffs.

Miller’s still shaking his head. “What you want, and what actually is, are two different things.” He lets out a long breath. “By no means am I saying that what happened with you all in space was easy or _fun_ or anything like that,” he carries on, “but it brought you all together in a way I’m never going to get to be a part of. And that--it just sucks.”

Monty takes another step forward, reaching out for Miller’s hands, nearly shivering in relief when he doesn’t pull away. “Let’s sit,” Monty says softly. Miller lets out a long breath but lets Monty drag him to the couch anyway. Even once they’re seated, Monty still holds Miller’s hand. “We used to play this game,” Monty tells him. “Where Are They Now?” Monty says, pulling out his game show voice. “We’d give a name of someone we knew was still on Earth,” Monty says, “and create elaborate things that they must’ve been in the middle of doing.”

“Sounds really exciting,” Miller mutters.

“It wasn’t,” Monty says, a laugh in his voice. “But we had to pass the time somehow.” Monty brushes his thumb over Miller’s, soft and slow. “I can’t even tell you how many times your name was brought up,” he says. “Nearly every time we played. Raven always listed off a different book you had to have been reading. Bellamy was sure you were leading some sort of political committee or something. Harper would guess something with Jackson.” Monty shakes his head. “We missed you too, Miller.”

“But it feels like I’m still missing you,” he rasps.

Monty stretches out then, tugging Miller toward him and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Miller’s forehead drops to Monty’s shoulder and he lets out a shuddering breath, letting Monty hold him. The angle is uncomfortable but Miller’s breathing is uneven and Monty refuses to let go until his heartbeat is steady again.

* * *

Monty finds himself in Miller’s cabins most nights after that.

At first, Miller seems hesitant to open the door, but eventually it becomes routine. They sit close on the couch, their fingers brushing, and talk until their lips are numb. Monty tells Miller about some of the absurd things that happened in space (the weird relationships, the sexual frustration that led to some strange kisses, the bouts of insanity that came upon them) while Miller recounts his days in the bunker. Monty’s stories are usually more fun, as it’s all of their friends, but he likes listening to Miller talk anyway.

He explains to Miller that they knew everything about everyone up there after some time. Secrets were pointless. Deep conversations were had.

On the day that Bellamy and Clarke are caught kissing inside the medicinal cabin, Monty tells Miller that they’d been betting on when it would happen for _years_.

Things between Monty and Miller have been shifting for some time, Monty realizes, when he arrives to the fire one Friday night and Raven asks why Miller isn’t with him.

Monty’s only _sure_ that things are really changing when it rains suddenly in the middle of the day, soaking everyone to the bone, and Monty scrambles to get Miller inside. “You’re going to get sick!” Monty shouts, surprised his voice carries over the sound of the storm.

Miller just grins, his arms open and out, his head tipped backwards as he closes his eyes and lets it wash over him. It’s a warm afternoon, summer, and the rain will cool everything down for the evening.

Soon, lightning strikes, and Miller lets out a laugh that’s so wonderful and wild that Monty’s breath catches in his throat. Finally he races off to Monty’s cabin, drenched, so the can stand on the porch.

They’re both breathing heavily from the quick run and Miller’s shirt is sticking to him in a delectable way that has Monty staring at his chest.

“What?” Miller asks with a grin.

“Needed to dance in the rain?” Monty tosses back.

“I missed it,” Miller tells him. "Rain." He reaches forward then, brushing Monty’s wet hair from his forehead, his fingers lingering just a beat too long. Monty’s eyes end up on Miller’s mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. “Monty,” Miller says softly, and Monty’s eyes flickering back up to meet Miller’s gaze. “Let’s get inside and dry off,” he murmurs.

Monty swallows. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Let’s get inside.”

* * *

“You sure we’re not being _exclusive_?” Murphy asks, his voice thick with sarcasm. Monty frowns at him. It’s not like he called a special meeting to order, or anything. He just has certain friends that he has to talk to. And they just happened to be the crew from space. “This is about Miller, yeah?”

“Of course it is,” Harper says.

It’s like they can read each other’s freaking minds.

“We can all understand each other so _easily_ ,” Monty huffs, wrapping his arms around himself. It feels like they’re being secretive, crowded into Raven’s cabin in the middle of the night. “So what if I’m reading everything with him wrong?”

“You’re not,” Bellamy answers.

“But how can you know!”

“We can all see how he looks at you, Monty,” Raven adds. It just feels strange, this possibility of something more with someone else. Bellamy props his elbow up and rests his chin in his hand, smiling softly. Even Harper looks like she’s happy. “Ask him how he’s feeling.”

“He’s not one of us,” Monty says. “He doesn’t like talking about his feelings.”

“Neither do we,” Murphy mutters. “We’re just used to it now.”

“Or tell him how _you_ feel,” Harper says, “since we’re so good at it.”

But that’s _scary_. Because Monty _knows_ how _these_ people feel. It’s the weird telepathy they developed. But he doesn’t know how Miller feels, and it’s scary.

“You’re never going to know unless one of you makes a move,” Raven says. “So just go for it.”

* * *

Monty’s noticed that Miller and Clarke have gotten a lot closer, too. That makes him happy. Clarke’s felt a lot like an outcast too, so they’ve bonded through that. They also grew up together, so they have a bit of history.

When he arrives at Miller’s cabin tonight, he pauses at the sound of laughter from the inside. “Shut _up_ , Clarke,” Miller says with a laugh of his own, and Monty smiles. His hand hovers over the door, poised to knock. “You have no room to talk.”

“I have all the room to talk, Nate.”

Monty’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead. _Nate_. He wonders if he should start calling Miller by his given name, too. He knocks and the sound of the couch creaking fills the air, followed by Clarke pulling open the door.

“Hey Clarke,” Monty greets her.

“Hi Monty,” she says. “I was on my way out.” Clarke pulls open the door. “Bye, Nate.”

“Bye Clarke,” he calls, looking annoyed and fond at the same time, probably in reference to whatever it was they were talking about. “Just here to visit?” Miller asks as Monty enters, closing the door behind him.

He crosses the room to Miller’s side. “Kind of. Since when does Clarke call you Nate?”

“Couple months now, I guess,” he answers.

“Could I call you Nate?” Monty wonders.

Miller smiles. “Yeah, Monty. If you wanted.”

“Nate,” Monty says, testing it out, and Miller’s smile brightens. He settles down, close to Miller on the couch. “So, _Nate_ ,” he begins, and Miller’s eyes are warmer than the summer air. “Remember when I told you that everyone I was with got really good at talking about our feelings?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well I want to talk about something,” Monty tells him. Miller’s smile fades for a moment but he nods his head anyway. “I just can’t do the--the waiting and not knowing thing anymore, you know?”

“Not knowing what?” Miller asks.

Monty swallows. “If you feel the same way I do,” he says. Miller’s lips part. “I like you,” Monty says easily, despite the way his heart is hammering in his chest. “I like spending time with you and getting to know you all over again and--yeah. That’s how I feel.”

“Yeah?” Miller asks. Monty nods. Miller licks his lips. “And you want to know how I feel?” he guesses. Again, Monty nods.

He certainly didn’t miss the anticipation of things like this.

But then Miller leans toward him, sure and confident, and Monty’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Wait,” Monty gasps, and Miller waits, his mouth inches away. He can feel Miller’s breath against his lips, hot and warm. “I don’t--” Monty swallows, letting his eyes fall shut. “I don’t want this to be me falling for the first person I get attention from on the ground,” Monty says quickly. He feels Miller move further into his space. “I know that I like you, really, but I don’t want to be--like, overwhelmed that there are so many people and possibilities and--”

“Monty,” Miller cuts him off warmly.

The anxious bubble in Monty’s chest pops into nothing at the sound of his name in Miller’s mouth. “Yeah?” he whispers.

“Do you remember Mount Weather?” Miller asks.

Monty laughs. His eyes open, meeting Miller’s, who’s smiling at him like he’s made of stardust. “How could I forget?” Monty returns.

“Do you remember,” Miller continues softly, “when we sat on that small, stupid bunk after stealing those schematics?” Monty thinks for a moment before nodding. “And you called me a great thief?”

“Of course I remember,” Monty whispers. “You freaking--God, I don’t think I’d ever seen you smile like that.” Again, Miller leans forward, nodding just a bit. “Oh,” Monty exhales. “You…?”

Monty isn’t even sure what he’s asking. He watches Miller lick his lips another time, his eyes trained on Monty’s mouth as he does so.

“We finally get to start over,” Miller exhales. “ _Finally_. For real this time.” No acid rain, no death wave, no Mountain Men, no artificial intelligence. They can finally begin. His eyes lift to Monty’s. “Do you want to do it together?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Monty whispers.

Miller smiles and there are no words for the way it makes Monty feel. When he kisses him, it’s like Monty’s first steps on Earth the second time around. Full of hope, ready for more.

* * *

The feel of Nate’s calloused hands against Monty’s skin, his scruff across Monty’s chest as he kisses his way downward, the sound of him breathing Monty’s name as they lose themselves in each other in Nate’s bedroom, it’s too much.

If Monty used to think that people were overwhelming, all at once, then Nate by himself is a goddamn nightmare. He makes Monty’s thoughts stutter and stumble, his words come out in a rush, a warmth unimaginable take hold of him and hold tight.

It takes just a few weeks for them to have their own language, full of smirks and winks and waggling eyebrows that makes everyone around them groan.

“Get a room,” Murphy comments at one point.

“Seriously,” Raven agrees, “it’s like you two are on the same wavelength or something.”

That night in bed, Monty traces his fingers down Nate’s bare chest, the moonlight filtering in through the window casting the entire warm aglow. “I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about coming back to the ground,” Monty whispers to him.

Tomorrow, they’ll pack a bag and head to a nearby village created by a group of grounders that wanted their own space, just to visit.

Next month, they’ll journey to see the ocean.

No one knows what a year from now will bring, let alone five, but Monty knows it’s going to be good.

“And how do you feel now that you’re here?” Nate whispers back.

They’ve both lost people. They’ve both suffered. They’ve spent years apart, both with challenges of their own. But now, like David said, they’re rebuilding. A better tomorrow. A tomorrow that Jasper would’ve liked.

A tomorrow that Monty’s excited to be a part of.

“Ready for whatever's next,” Monty answers.

Nate’s grin means he feels the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Why Is No One But Me Concerned About Miller Alone In The Bunker


End file.
